


Sins of the father, redemption of the son

by Shamelessly_Radiant



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Ending, Episode Fix-it, Episode: s02e08 The Sins Of The Father, Gen, M/M, Magic Revealed, Okay Not Really, Pre-Slash, Segueing into an alternative universe for obvious reasons, but there will be merthur in the bigger picture, kind of, kind of?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-14
Updated: 2019-12-14
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:02:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21784915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shamelessly_Radiant/pseuds/Shamelessly_Radiant
Summary: “He didn’t deny it. My father. When I asked him to swear it to me, he just said he loved her. That he wouldn’t have knowingly caused her harm. But he didn't deny it. Merlin. I need to know.” Arthurr's blue eyes are pleading and piercing on Merlin's, and Merlin cannot find it in himself anymore to lie to him.He exhales heavily. And starts talking.
Relationships: Merlin & Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Comments: 26
Kudos: 277





	Sins of the father, redemption of the son

“He didn’t deny it.”

Arthur is standing in front of the window like the last stable structure in the world, a faraway look in his eyes.

“What?”

Arthur turns, fixes Merlin with his eyes, freezes him to his place.

“My father. He didn’t deny it. When I asked him to swear it to me, he just said he loved her. That he wouldn’t have knowingly caused her harm.”

Merlin makes a noncommittal noise in the back of his throat, studiously avoiding Arthur’s gaze.

“He didn’t deny it,” Arthur says a third time. “Merlin. Are you certain Morgause was lying?”

“I—”

“Are you _absolutely_ certain?”

“Arthur—”

“Merlin. I need to know.”

Merlin raises his eyes to meets Arthur's, and he cannot find it in himself to lie anymore. “You would’ve never forgiven yourself if you’d killed him.”

Arthur breathes out heavily and sags against the wall. “So he killed her.”

“No. Arthur. He didn’t know.” Merlin shakes his head. “Magic always requires a balance. A death for a life, darkness for light, coldness for warmth. Uther and Ygraine both wanted a son, so bad, so they asked Nimueh for her help. Nimueh told Uther there’d be a price, that the balance had to be restored, but none of them _knew_. Magic is fickle, sometimes. It is… unpredictable." He remembers the whole mess of the Isle of the Blessed, coming back thruimphant and happy for having saved Arthur's life, only to find his mother covered in hideous boils on Gaius' doorstep. He remembers the despair of it all. The injustice, the powerless feeling. Only then had he understood how easy it would've been for Uther to lash out. "And then your mother died, and your father went almost mad with grief and—”

“And he blamed magic.” Arthur concludes, hunching his shoulders as the realisation sinks in.

Merlin exhales heavily, nodding.

“I’ve been taught to hate magic my _whole life_ , Merlin. And my own birth was caused by it! I was born by magic and it caused the death of hundreds, of thousands even, starting with my mother. I’ve persecuted magic users myself. I—” tears are running down Arthur’s cheeks now, his face displaying a myriad of emotions, anger, sadness, anguish, remorse.

“Arthur,” Merlin pulls him into his arms and is surprised when Arthur allows it, burying his face into Merlin’s shoulder and sobbing his heart out.

“You are not to blame.” Merlin whispers, running his fingers through the pale, fine strands of Arthur's soft hair as he holds his shaking form tight, and repeats this over and over. “You are not to blame. You didn’t know. You have shown you have a far better heart than your father ever did.”

**_._ **

“How do you know so much about all this?” Arthur asks later, after he has finished crying, mourning that part of him he would never regain, after he had sat there slumped and tired and empty, a faraway look in his eyes, and Merlin had fetched him dinner and a bath until he regained colour and came back to the present. He’s looking genuinely curious, none of the reproach Merlin would expect on his face. Merlin hesitates— Before, Arthur said he believed his father could be wrong. But how kindly would he take to knowing his manservant had magic?

“I grew up in Ealdor.” Merlin says. “Magic isn’t outlawed in Cenred’s kingdom. They teach us a little about it, just in case—” he breaks himself off, before he says too much.

“Just in case?” Arthur asks, having picked on that Merlin was about to say something important, and he’s got his stubborn face on now, and Merlin knows he won’t get away with not saying anything more.

Well. He’s come this far.

“Arthur,” Merlin says, “I— well, the thing is, magic users, they—”

“Spit it out, Merlin.” Arthur’s voice sounds bored, but his arms are crossed, waiting, and his face gives him away.

Merlin slumps into a seat, burying his head in his hands for a second or two, and sends up a quick prayer to whatever deity is there to listen to him that he won’t be executed for saying what he’s about to say.

“To practise magic,” Merlin says, “you have to be born with a certain affinity to it. Just saying the words and doing the handwaving will do nothing if there is nothing to draw it from. It is a power inside you,” he presses a fist to his chest “and the words just help shape it as you want it to be.”

Arthur stares at him.

“You’re saying my father has burned thousand innocents at the stake? People that didn’t choose it, that were _born_ with it?”

“Ah. Not quite.” Merlin winces, “I mean, yes, they were born with it, but they still chose to nurture it.”

“So, it is true? That all magic corrupts eventually?”

“Ah. Er.”

“You disagree?”

“ _No!_ no, I’d never. That’d be treason.”

“ _Mer_ lin. This whole conservation has been treason.” And if the teasing falls a bit flat, neither of them mentions it.

“Right.”

“So you disagree?”

“I believe magic is a tool. Just as swords are. It is the user that determines the intention behind it.”

“If that is the case, why have I never seen good magic in my life?”

Merlin stares at him.

“What?” Arthur snaps.

“Oh, I just thought you were smarter than that.”

“ _Mer_ lin,” Arthur growls

“Arthur. Using magic in Camelot is forbidden on penalty by death. _Why on earth_ would anyone risk it? I’m quite sure that if people use magic for good, they’d do it in secret.”

Arthur is _looking_ at Merlin now. Looking as if he’s putting all the world’s secrets together, looking as if he’s thinking hard, so hard in fact, Merlin almost wants to warn him not to hurt himself, but Arthur is just, sitting there, eyes wide open and slightly glazed, and suddenly those eyes snap back to Merlin’s, and he asks the question that Merlin feels the whole evening, his whole life even, has been leading up to.

“You have magic, don’t you?”

And really, what can he say?

Merlin breathes in, summons his courage, sits up straight and answers.

“Yes.”

**Author's Note:**

> This is an excerpt of what's meant to become a multi-chapter work featuring a Good!Morgana, a fix-it, Merthur, and just generally a rewriting that doesn't make me cry like it did when Arthur thanked Merlin for reminding him that magic is inherently evil. Ugh. That said, I have a busy life, and Netflix is taking Merlin off tomorrow, so I don't know when I'll be able to continue this. I do have a whole chunk written, but I haven't actually watched the whole show yet. So... hopefully soon.


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